


and given time the hurt will heal

by RainbowRandomness



Series: fallen angel [1]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Agony, Angel Wings, Gen, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 14:47:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8756776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowRandomness/pseuds/RainbowRandomness
Summary: Although Lucifer had gotten used to the missing weight of his wings, they were an almost timid welcome ache on his back. He smiled to himself, small and private, as he tried to make his right wing extend, watching as it stretched out beside him, the feathers sweeping along the sleek black floor.





	

**Author's Note:**

> thought I'd write a prequel thing to [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8611753)
> 
> not much to say with this one; Lucifer suffers as his wings regrow, essentially.
> 
> I'm probably gonna continue with this storyline, possibly making it into a series? I kinda just wanna write about Lucifer and his newborn wings in any way, shape, or form that I can. so when an idea strikes me, I'll probably write some more.
> 
> Title from _Fallen Angel_ by Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons

It had been excruciating.

It had begun as a small, inconvenient itch beneath his skin. Something that made him roll his shoulder blades in the hope that the persistent feeling would go away, his fingers twitching with the need to drag his fingernails against the sensation of his skin crawling. He resisted, of course, not wanting to look undignified by trying to reach the scars on his back to scratch them like a flea ridden stray. The Detective had already been shooting him strange looks each time he rolled his shoulders back and hissed beneath his breath at the twinging pain clawing at his muscles.

Despite the Detective glancing at him in both suspicion and worry, she hadn’t said anything, and Lucifer was glad. He didn’t have an explanation for his sudden back problems and he didn’t particularly want her possibly teasing him about growing old and developing pains. He was immortal, a fallen angel; his mortal body could withstand more than she would ever truly know.

By the end of the day, the pain between his shoulder blades had worsened and he made a hasty retreat from Chloe the moment he could. She called after him as he practically ran from her presence but she didn’t chase after him, and as he staggered into his apartment moments later he couldn’t help but be thankful; he didn’t want her to see him like this, his body folding in on itself in agony and his jaw clenched as he tried to contain the screams that threatened to escape him.

His scars burned painfully on his back, as though the metaphorical fires of Hell were licking at the jagged and mutilated skin, ripping them open anew. He bit back a scream as he fell to the floor and curled into himself, feeling as though _something_ was lurking beneath his skin, twisting his bones and clawing at his muscles, trying to break free. It was almost as though something inside him was trying to tear him to shreds from the inside out, desperate to break the surface, and as the pain grew he gasped, his heart pumping and his blood rushing through his ears.

With his strength dwindling, he used the last of it to drag himself across his floor towards his bedroom, desperate for some form of comfort and something to cling to. He kneeled on aching knees and tore his jacket and shirt from his body, not caring in that moment what designer clothing he had ruined, discarding the materials aside. He dragged himself up the two steps that led to his bed and then clung to the covers, his knuckles white where he clutched at the silk sheets. He bit back another scream and tasted blood on his tongue.

Beneath his skin, his muscles felt as though they were pulling at themselves and stretching unnaturally, his scars burning and aching against his spine. The pain only continued to intensify as the hours ticked by until night fell over the city and he was left screaming in agony within the confines of his apartment.

-

When dawn broke and sunlight streamed through Lucifer’s apartment windows, the pain was simply a dull throb under his skin. His muscles ached, bones tired and weary, and the sudden weight of his newly born wings kept him pinned to the side of his bed where he still clutched at the covers. They were wrapped around him, almost protectively, shielding him from the bright rays of the early morning sunlight that streamed through his floor to ceiling windows, but where they were parted the sun’s rays still penetrated through to cover him in a golden glow.

From his position on the floor, head resting against his mattress and wings curled around him, he studied his newly born wings; the feathers were just as pure and white as they had been before, but he could see the difference from his first wings to these new ones. Where the light hit the plumage they shimmered and shone, flecks of silver and gold weaved throughout his feathers so that they glistened under the light.

Experimentally, he tried to flex them, hoping to ruffle his feathers and see them shimmer under the morning light. The muscles in his back twinged in pain at the forgotten motion but his wings moved all the same and he watched as his feathers twitched.

They felt alien and yet so achingly familiar; like an old forgotten memory that only resurfaced after someone reminded you, dredging the memory back to the forefront of your mind. Although Lucifer had gotten used to the missing weight of his wings, they were an almost timid welcome ache on his back. He smiled to himself, small and private, as he tried to make his right wing extend, watching as it stretched out beside him, the feathers sweeping along the sleek black floor.

After a moment’s pause, Lucifer raised himself from his position on the floor and stood, stretching his arms above his head until something in his back cracked and aching relief flooded through him. His wings mimicked his arms, stretching themselves out either side of him until their arches touched the ceiling and the tips of their bottom feathers touched the floor.

He was careful not to let them stretch too far, worried that he’d break every item of furniture he owned; he didn’t want the heavy weight of his wings crashing down onto a vase or a lamp, even if they were easily replaceable items.

Moving carefully from his bedroom into the open living space of his apartment, he almost jumped at the sound of his phone ringing from within the confines of his jacket pocket. He placed a hand to his heart and then sighed to himself, closing his eyes for a moment before grabbing the jacket from off the ground. He located the obscenely loud ringing phone almost immediately and removed it from his inner pocket but Lucifer paused as he looked at his phone, Chloe’s name and picture appearing before him on the screen.

Lucifer stared at his phone, unsure of what to do. His thumb hovered over the _Accept_ button displayed on his screen, but as his wings twitched where they were tucked against his back, his thumb moved to hover over the _Decline_ button instead.

She couldn’t see him like this. Although he had always wanted her to see him for who he truly was, even though he had always told her time and time again that he was an immortal being, the Devil himself, he didn’t want her to see him like _this_. He was a fallen angel; he was Lucifer, Satan, the Devil, the punisher of the wicked and the damned. He wasn’t an _angel_ anymore, despite the fact his second pair of wings sat comfortably tucked against his back.

He didn’t want her to see him like this; as something he _wasn’t_.

Closing his eyes, Lucifer let out a calming breath and pressed _Decline_.

**Author's Note:**

> come follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/RainbowRandoms) and [tumblr](http://rainbow-randomness.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I do not give permission to have any of my works put up on goodreads or any other such site.


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